


Twelve days of Christmas music

by elyteracy



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe, Christmas, Dublin (City), M/M, Piano, Roommates, future kandreil, ghost - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-28 04:48:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17176196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elyteracy/pseuds/elyteracy
Summary: A short advent calendar fic of only twelve days which combines a Christmas ghost, an out of tune piano, Kevin and Andrew as roommates, and budding love.





	Twelve days of Christmas music

On December 1st, Andrew bolted up at five am when the cat jumped on his bed. The cat's name was Katzastrophe, courtesy of his cousin Nicky, but was often nicknamed Katty. Andrew hated the name and the cat, and had decided to show that hatred by calling the cat "Cat" to his cousin's dismay.

The cat made her way to Andrew, slipped under the blanket and settled against his belly. Andrew considered pulling her out and throwing her off the bed but she was warm and a good space-heater. Being a barman paid fine, but rents in Dublin were ridiculous, so Andrew didn't turn on the heat until he really needed to.

He blinked in the dark and realised he could hear music from the neighbouring flat. It was the sound of piano and it was off tune. Andrew wouldn't usually care. It wasn't loud enough to wake him up, and Kevin could sleep through Armageddon. The thing was, flat 42 had been empty for as long as Andrew had been living in Dublin, meaning two years, and was still not rented to his knowledge.

He considered investigating that little mystery but that would require getting out of bed in the cold. Andrew didn't want to so he didn't. The cat was starting to purr, and he could feel sleep pulling at his eyelids once again. He didn't fight it.

__

On December 2nd, Kevin emerged from his bedroom at 9:15 am, lured in by the smell of coffee after snoozing his alarm twice. There were pillow marks on his cheek and the beginning of stubble.

Andrew waited until he'd finished his coffee. "Did anyone move in flat 42?"

Kevin frowned slightly. "No, I don't think so. Why do you ask?"

Andrew took a sip of his own coffee and didn't reply. Kevin knew him well enough that he knew he wouldn't get an answer and moved on to making himself a quick breakfast before class.

__

On December 3rd, when he came back home from his shift at the bar, he could hear the piano. The hallway was dark, and there was no other sound than the halting melody, like the person was learning again how to play. If Andrew Minyard was anyone else, he would have probably been creeped out, but as long as the mysterious person was playing the piano, they weren't in his vicinity.

He stood there for a few minutes until he was annoyed by how out-of-tune the music was.

__

On December 4th, he was woken up at three am by his flatmate and next murder victim Kevin Day when he violently opened the door to his bedroom.

Kevin made a sharp yelp when a pen hit his face - the only thing that was on Andrew's bedside table. There were a few swears of which only one was in English. Andrew laid back on the bed, heart pounding. "You better have a good reason for waking me up, Day."

"The piano," Kevin said.

Andrew took a moment to listen. Indeed, the piano was singing again, faint and muffled through the wall. He looked back at Kevin, who was hardly more than a backlit figure in his doorway. "Why are you awake?" Kevin was a heavy sleeper. The low tune shouldn't have woken him.

Kevin rubbed his wrist. "Couldn't sleep," he said, which either meant he'd had a nightmare or anxiety had kept him up. Not that Andrew cared. "We should go and see what it is."

Andrew sent him a cold look until he realised Kevin probably couldn't see him. "No," he said, reluctantly.

"The flat isn't rented. If someone is squatting, we should tell them they are not allowed here."

Andrew rolled on his side. "Will you let me go back to sleep if I get you in the goddamn apartment?" He asked, because Kevin Day was nothing if not stubborn and he was too tired to get any enjoyment from telling him no.

"Yes."

Andrew got out of bed, put on some shoes and rummaged through his nightstand for his lockpicking kit. He looked back at Kevin. "Let's go. The faster this is taken care of the faster I can drown you for waking me up."

Kevin glared at him but made his way outside their flat.

Kevin used his phone to light the lock while Andrew opened it. It took a handful of minutes, but eventually, the lock clicked. It was an old building, and the door creaked when they pushed it open.

The music stopped. It was coming from the second bedroom at the end of the corridor, Andrew could tell. The blueprint of the flat was the same as theirs but in reverse. This one seemed much bigger, as it was fully empty. Andrew made his way to the bedroom, Kevin behind him.

He put his hand on the handle of the door. Kevin's fingers tightened in his t-shirt. He opened the door.

There was no one. The room was as empty as the rest of the flat, excepted for the piano against the right wall. Kevin let out a breath behind him, his fingers unclenching from his t-shirt. Andrew went to check on the window, but it was close. The window was the only exit of the room, outside from the door they'd come in.

"Maybe it's a ghost," Kevin whispered.

Andrew scoffed. "I'm going back to bed," he declared.

Kevin made an indignant sound but didn't object as he followed Andrew back to their flat.

__

On December 5th, eight am, Andrew found Kevin at the kitchen table, a pile of library books in front of him, Katty on top. He peered at the titles but the one on top was written in Gaelic. He didn't even try to read Kevin's handwriting. It was already chicken-scratch before he'd broken his arm and it was like reading a toddler's handwriting now.

He put his hand on Kevin's book, dislodging the cat and essentially preventing him from reading. Kevin looked up with an annoyed look. "What are you doing?"

"I should be asking you that."

Kevin made a short irritated noise. "I'm looking for an explanation for what we saw yesterday. Or didn't see, what we heard would be more accurate."

Andrew raised an eyebrow and pushed away the book on top of the pile to read the title of the one under. It said Paranormal Sightings in Dublin. "A rational explanation?"

"Most sightings can be explained rationally, actually," Kevin said, without look away from his notes. "I'm trying to find whether something like this has happened before."

"That's stupid," Andrew told him and promptly pushed one of the books off the table.

"Hey! These are library books!" Kevin shouted after him as he left the kitchen.

__

On December 5th, Andrew bought some oil for doors and oiled flat 42's door before going to work a bit before 7 pm. Roland smiled at him when he came into the bar. There was purple glitter in his hair.

"You will clean up that glitter by yourself," he warned him.

"Goodnight to you too, Andrew. Anything new?"

"The neighbor's apartment is haunted."

Roland laughed. Then sobered up. "Wait, you're serious?" Andrew sent him a look. "You are serious. What are you going to do?"

Andrew pulled some glasses out of the cupboard. "I'm going to catch a trespasser."

"You mean, you're going ghost hunting?" Roland asked with wide eyes.

"Ghosts don't exist, Roland."

"That's debatable. There isn't any proof they don't exist, and there have been multiple sightings, such as the Jarvis shopping center. Did you know it's reportedly the most haunted-"

"Roland. I don't give a fuck."

__

On December 6th, a few hours later, Andrew stopped in front of flat 42's door. The ghost was playing Christmas music. Out of tune Christmas music. Andrew decided that if the pianist wasn't already a ghost, he was about to become one.

The door opened without a sound. Andrew walked silently to the back of the flat where the music was coming from. He didn't wait long and opened the door.

There was a loud a crash. Andrew saw a flash of light hair before a figure threw itself at him. His reflexes kicked in and he kneed them in the stomach. The ghost, who was far too corporal to be one, made a breathless sound and fell to the floor curled up in a ball.

Andrew used his foot to push him on his back and take a look at his face. It was dark in the room and the only light in the room came from the only window in front of which was a street lamp. Andrew could discern blond hair and sharp features, but not much else. He put his foot on the man's chest. "Who are you?"

"Fuck you," the ghost spit. He was definitely not an Irish ghost if that accent, British and posh, was anything to go by.

Andrew tried to not feel amused. "I'd be more polite if I were you," he said, pulling a knife out from his armbands. The ghost's eyes widened slightly. They were light. Green or blue, Andrew couldn't tell in the darkness. "Let's try that again. Who are you?"

The ghost tried to get away, grabbing Andrew's ankle, but he just stepped harder on his chest. He quickly stopped struggling when he realised he couldn't get away. "Are you going to kill me?"

Andrew stayed silent for a few seconds just to see the ghost squirm under him. "Depends," he said, eventually.

The ghost made an annoyed noise at the back. "Depends on what? If you're going to kill me, I'd appreciate a quick death."

"Depends on whether or not you're going to continue playing Christmas music."

The ghost blinked at him, then he let out a tiny snort and let go of his ankle. "If it keeps me alive, I'll abstain from now on."

Andrew frowned at him. "So who are you, ghost?"

Another amused noise. "Ghost? You can call me Neil."

"Well, Neil. If you want to live, I suggest you stop playing Christmas songs on an out-of-tune piano."

"Not my fault the piano is out of tune."

"You could just stop playing."

"That's a no."

Andrew narrowed his eyes at him. "You can sleep on the couch, Neil, and we will discuss your potential death in the morning."

__

On December 6th, eight am, the usual time Kevin Day came out of his bedroom to have breakfast and then ran to university to give classes, he decided instead that waking Andrew, again, would be a wise idea.

Andrew wasn't quite sure why he hadn't killed the man yet. The list of pros was getting longer and longer.

"Why is there a stranger on the couch?" Kevin asked. "If you fucked a guy, you could at least let him sleep in your room. I don't need one of your one-night stands on my couch."

Andrew let go of the knife he'd been holding. "I didn't fuck him and we both paid for that couch."

Kevin crossed his arms, eyes narrowed. "Who is he, then?"

Andrew pulled his blanket up to his chin, tightening it around himself. It was too fucking cold in this country. "Ghost," he mumbled.

"What ghost?"

"On the couch."

"The lad on the couch is the ghost?" Kevin finally understood. "Why would you let him on our couch?"

Andrew finally had enough of Kevin's grating voice. He threw back his blanket and slipped out of bed. Kevin watched him, clearly waiting for an answer that Andrew didn't want to give. He pushed him out of the doorway and walked into the living room.

Neil was sitting in the middle of the couch, fully dressed, shoes included. Andrew planted himself in front of him. "I'm surprised you're still here."

"It's storming," Neil said, tone far too snarky for someone who'd life had been spared graciously a few hours earlier. "It would be stupid to die out there when I could die here, in the warmth."

Kevin made a frustrated noise. "No one is dying." He pointed at Neil, then glanced outside. "You can stay here until the storm stops." He turned around and made his way to the kitchen, muttering something about British people that was anything but friendly.

Andrew stared at Neil a few more seconds. Neil stared back. His eyes were a muddy green, but with the light, he could now the faint blue rim around his pupils. "You can stay if you take off your contacts."

Neil hadn't been moving before he said that, but he was truly frozen after Andrew's word. He stood up, took his bag from the end of the couch. "Then, I'm leaving."

Andrew stared at his back. He would have let him go if there wasn't still a question in the back of his mind. "Did you only break in to play the piano?"

Neil's steps halted. He didn't turn around, but Andrew could feel the hesitation in the way he held his body. Kevin had stopped in the doorway of the kitchen, watching them with serious green eyes.

"I didn't know the piano was here. I broke in because I needed a place to stay for the night."

"Why play the piano? Why come back?"

Neil's hands tightened around the strap of his bag. "I suppose I just couldn't stay away."

Andrew stared at Neil's back for a moment. Kevin was already looking at him with a purposeful gaze when Andrew glanced his way. He was rubbing his left hand where spidery scars was climbing up the skin toward his wrist. Sometimes, Andrew couldn't stand the hungry desperate look Kevin had when he looked at his cello.

"Leave," he told Neil.

Neil didn't hesitate. Kevin's gaze lingered on the door for longer than it should have.

__

On December 7th, when Andrew left work, it was snowing. Andrew couldn't quite believe his eyes. He did remember the last time it had snowed in Dublin, because Andrew didn't forget anything, but he hadn't been living here then. It hadn't snowed in Dublin in years.

He was freezing his ass off.

He didn't run from his car to the flat because he hated running, but it was a near thing. His shoes were full of snow and his hair was wet. The cold had sipped into him and settled in, chilling him to his bones.

He opened the door to find Kevin and Neil curled up on the couch, watching something on the TV. Only Neil was awake. Andrew couldn't tell if the door opening had woken him up or if he'd just never fallen asleep.

"What are still doing here?"

Neil tilted his head toward Kevin. "He invited me in when he heard me play."

Andrew pursed his lips. Anger was churning in his stomach. For a moment, he wanted to throw Neil over the balcony. He pulled his cigarettes out. "You better be gone by morning."

Andrew didn't miss the way Neil's eyes followed his fingers but it didn't matter. There was no trace of him left when Andrew woke up.  
__

On December 8th, Kevin cornered him in the kitchen at breakfast. "He's good, Andrew. Unpolished, but good. Amazing even," he told Andrew, like Andrew was supposed to care. There was something in Kevin's eyes that he hadn't seen in a long time, though.

He pushed Kevin away. "Fuck off, you'll be late for work."

__

On December 9th, Andrew dragged Roland to the backroom. Roland leaned against the wall with an interested spark in his eyes and a flirty smile. Andrew stared blankly at him. "I need to find a piano tuner."

Roland made a confused face. "Thought you were dragging me in the back for a blowjob, not for referrals. Why do you even need a piano tuner?"

"The ghost, he plays piano."

"I'd expect you to call for an exorcist, not a piano tuner."

Andrew crossed his arms and glared at him. "Do you one or not?"

Roland huffed, amused. "I happen to know someone, yes."

"You know this entire city, I can't say I am surprised."

That made Roland laugh. He pulled out his phone and gave it to Andrew. Andrew only needed to see the number once to remember. He closed the phone and handed it back to Roland before leaving the backroom to go back to work.

__

On December 10th, Andrew made his way to the owner of the building. He knocked on the door loudly. David Wymack opened the door, looking as tired and grumpy as he'd been the first he'd greeted Andrew and Kevin.

"Andrew. To what do I owe the displeasure?"

"The piano in flat 42. Who does it belong to?"

"How do you even know about it? The flat's empty," Wymack grumbled.

"A little birdie told me," Andrew replied flatly.

Wymack sighed loudly and rubbed a hand down his face. "Previous owner left it. Didn't know what to do about it."

"I want it."

Wymack crossed his arms. "I can't give it to you for free."

"I don't care. We can discuss the money. I want to move it to my flat."

Wymack hesitated for a few seconds, looking Andrew up and down. "Fine, take it," he said eventually. "We'll discuss the price later."

__

On December 11th, Kevin watched with wide eyes as Andrew helped a mover transfer the piano from the empty flat to theirs. Once the piano was in their living room and the piano was tuned up once again.

Kevin sat down on the bench, fingers trailing along the keys. He looked up at Andrew. His green eyes were filled with something like wonder. It was bright and warm. "Why would you do that?"

Andrew opened the door to their balcony and lit a cigarette. "You want him to say."

Kevin's hand froze over the keys. He'd never been as good with piano as he'd been with cello, but Andrew hadn't seen him play either since his hand had been broken. "The couch is a pullout," Kevin said, which was as good as a yes.

Andrew finished his cigarette in silence. Kevin didn't play any note, but he didn't leave the piano bench until Andrew had extinguished his third cigarette.

__

On December 12th, 8 pm, someone pounded on their door. Andrew opened it, already knowing who was on the other side. Neil was standing in the hallway, arms crossed, looking pissed.

"Where is my piano?"

Andrew raised an eyebrow. "It's mine. I bought it."

Neil barred his teeth. "I don't give a fuck. Where is it?"

"It's here. You can stay. The price's your real eye color," Andrew says, tapping a finger under his eye.

Neil was about to turn away, Andrew could tell. Kevin pushed the door open far enough that Neil could see the piano. "It's been tuned," Kevin said.

"Stay?" Neil repeated, disbelief colouring his tone.

Kevin nodded. "You can sleep on the couch. Until you find something better."

Neil's gaze was fixed on the piano. Time stood still. Finally, he nodded slightly. He turned around and took off his contacts. When he looked back, his eyes were a cold, light blue.

Andrew stepped away from the door. Neil headed straight for the piano.

"Welcome to Flat 41, Neil," Kevin said, but the words got lost in the melody already coming from the instrument.


End file.
